


When the dust settles

by Ibenholt



Category: Cyborg 009
Genre: F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2019-12-07 04:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibenholt/pseuds/Ibenholt
Summary: Their house burned down, they've been hunted like wild animals, and there are forces in the world far more sinister than they could have guessed.The Cyborgs get ready to take a break, but not everyone is onboard.





	1. Chapter 1

“What in the shit do you want?”

Jet snarled.

Igarashi was already regretting the decision to drop by. The motel was one of the shadier places you could find around these parts. It had probably had a vintage thing going for a few years, but now it was rusty and the paint had flaked off, making it look trashy in the early daylight.

With the help from a sun beam leading into Jet’s room, he could make out carpeted floors and a half open door leading into a mint green bathroom that had been mercilessly dragged out of a 70s commercial where it had been doing its best to die. 

“I understand you, 004 and 009 came back.”

“Yeah, here we are!”

Jet spun around, giving him a good look at his boxer shorts and shirt, as well as the legs with cobweb-thin lines making out the panels hiding his rockets. As he turned, his hair fell over his shoulders, revealing his designation and what looked like a bar code placed right under… something at the base of his skull.

“Brought back by the grace of God and so on. Or maybe Joe, in this case. Whatever. We’re homeless, exhausted and fucking miserable, go away.”

Igarashi heard footsteps, and someone appeared behind Jet.

“Mr. Igarashi?”

Francoise was matching Jet, wearing loose pajama shorts and a tank top. Her hair was messy, and her one organic eye was bloodshot. Igarashi tried not to look too closely, but he did note a similar bar code and designation on her thigh. As Jet turned to look at her, he saw that the something under the bar code was a port. 

“Go back to bed, Fran, I’m dealing with it.”

A deep grunt echoed in the room, and soon enough, they were joined by Albert. He was only wearing boxers, revealing just how little flesh he had left. Everything besides his hand and calves was skin colored, but he had panels and joints that were obviously metal. Artificial muscle and sinew they hadn’t bothered covering kept revealing itself as he moved, and the dark stamp on his deltoid reading out his designation was just further proof. Igarashi found it hard not to stare.

Albert put the arm with the sword-hand around Francoise’s shoulders and leaned his head on top of hers. Igarashi cleared his throat nervously. He was certain Francoise had been involved with Joe, but she was sleeping in the same room as them? And looking in, he could see there was only one bed.

“What is it now?”

“Jesus Christ… fucking go back to bed!! I’m dealing with it!!”

Jet yelled.

“Look!”

Igarashi finally said,

“I didn’t just drop by to ask about how you’re doing. I need to talk to you…”

The door next to them opened and Chang peeked out. In stark contrast to the others, he was wearing a full-length, flower-printed housecoat, and Igarashi couldn’t help but think about how someone had referred to him as the ‘team mom’ in a briefing.

“It’s not even 8, what’s with the noise?”

“LET’S JUST WAKE UP EVERYONE!!”

Jet yelled, pushing past Igarashi.

“You should have known better than to come here this early.”

Albert said, looking amused at his comrade as he ran down and knocked hard on the other doors.

“He’s so grumpy when he doesn’t get his beauty sleep.”

He was still leaning on Francoise, who was holding his arms and absent-mindedly running her thumbs over them. Igarashi wondered if he could feel it.

 

They all met up in Gilmore’s room. Everyone except the esteemed professor were in some form of sleepwear. 001 was lying in an old basket, occasionally grunting in his sleep.

“I usually serve guests tea or coffee,” Chang said, looking everywhere but at him, “but I’m afraid we can only offer you tap water, and even that isn’t recommended.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

After some fruitless fidgeting, he finally sat down next to GB who was wearing an eyesore of a pajamas. He spotted more bar codes as he looked around, and became unsure where to rest his eyes without causing offense.

“I’m surprised you’re not living in the Dolphin…”

“Ain’t got enough beds.”

Jet answered. The edge was off, but only slightly.

“Figured we’d do the family road trip-thing until we figure out where to settle down.”

Igarashi nodded at them, then craned his neck,

“Where is 009?”

The cyborgs did not respond, but instead cocked their heads in eerie unison and left Igarashi sharing a look with Gilmore, who could only shrug apologetically in response.


	2. Chapter 2

“FRAN!”

Jet’s voice echoed through the Dolphin, indicating frustration well before his flushed, flustered face poked around a corner. He was dragging Joe along with him, his hand tight around his upper arm before shoving him forward into the cockpit, where the others were gathered in a half circle at their consoles.

“TELL THIS IDIOT HE’S STAYING HIS ASS RIGHT HERE!”

Fran swiveled her chair around to face them, eyes wide. Before she could respond, more furious words tumbled out of Jet's mouth, 

“He wants to go to Catalina’s funeral!”

The few of them who hadn't looked up from their consoles at the screaming and stomping did so now. Joe just glared at the floor rather than meet their stares.

“CAN SOMEONE PLEASE SAY SOMETHING?” Jet snapped.

When Joe had exploded out of the sky with one cyborg under each arm, they had all thought the worst would be over.

But then Jet had himself completely to the others mentally during a check-up in the med-lab, and letting them see how hopeless and scared he had been when Ivan had been torn out of his arms. That loss of control of his body had been something out of a nightmare, and then losing Albert to the vastness of space which had been the cherry on the shit sundae that had been this week. That wasn’t even beginning to tackle all the underlying resentment that had built up after being betrayed by the NSA all those years ago, which was increased tenfold by the Guardians and the ties The Blessed seemed to have to everything and everyone. There had been a lot to work out even before this mess had begun. But that’s when he ended the flow of information, going very quiet.

And as he went quiet, it was as if the doors of their minds opened, and the adrenaline from the fight all but vanished. Their days of fighting were not over. They were facing uncertainty and pain and enemies that could easily over-power them.

A bit cautiously, Chang stood up,

“Do you think that’s wise, Joe? There are lots of pictures of us floating around now, and it wouldn’t be hard to recognize you.” 

“He’s right,” GB said, “And the other Blessed are bound to be looking for us.”

“Speaking of…” Albert said quietly, “Why do you want to go to her funeral in the first place? She only helped us when she started thinking you were one of them. I wouldn’t wish the last moments of her life on anyone, but it doesn’t change the fact that…”

“No! She made us able to beat the emperor! I owe her at least this.”

The others went quiet. In the air hung the unspoken words ‘this is a bad idea’.

“When did you all get this cold anyways,” Joe snapped, “I just want to go to a funeral!”  

Albert stepped up to him,

“We need you to stay here so we can plan our next move. There’s nothing stopping you from going to her grave later. We might even go with you, just to get closure on this mess.”

Joe bit his lip,

“It’s more than that. I need a… a break.”

They stared holes through him. Enhanced eyes were begging for an explanation, but all Joe could muster was:

“I just wanna be alone for a bit.”

They were 10 people who had known each other well over 50 years. New interests and needs had bloomed. Suddenly someone would go to Rome and paint for a year. Another would go to remote villages to learn a new language instead of just downloading it.

They all needed breaks on occasion, but this was still their family. They would always return.

And it was an unspoken rule that after a battle, they licked their wounds together. After one of this magnitude, none of them had imagined that they would be apart for quite some time.

Joe knew this, and yet he seemed as though he expected them to understand.

“Stop kidding.”

Pyunma said.

“I’m not. I need to be alone.”

He cringed when he felt a few of them reach out to him. His mental shield was lifted, but the echoes of their thoughts seemed to somehow come through,

“Just drop it. I’ll be back.”

*You can’t leave now!*

“Why not! It’s over!”

*We need…*

“Don’t say that you need me! Why can’t any of you understand! We’re 9 of 1, but we’re not gonna die if I leave!”

“SO GO!” Francoise screamed, shaking as she did, “BAIL ON US! ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU DO?”

The others looked taken aback, but Fran looked downright surprised. But then her face hardened,  

“Fran…”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

She smacked his hand away,

“Why can’t we understand… It’s so easy for you, isn’t it! How long was it for you again? A couple of years of going to high school? Three really long years? Everyone had plans, Joe! I could have gone to France and danced until my feet bled! But I stayed because you asked me to! Because you promised to come back! Now you’re just walking out on us again? And for someone some Catalina? Go to hell!”

She stormed out of the Dolphin. He was about to go after her, but GB took his arm,

“Come here, young man. If you are going, let’s at least change you up a little bit.”

He dragged Joe away, while the others returned to their consoles, tension making itself known in their shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long. I've been working on Fran's freakout. I'm still not completely satisfied, but I figured if I kept waiting for inspiration to strike, we'd be waiting until December.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Fran had barely stepped off the ramp when she fell to the ground, clutching her chest as if all the air had gone out of her.

“Francoise.”

She felt a big hand on her back, and tried to exhale as Albert kneeled next to her and started rubbing the space between her shoulder blades,

“Breathe for me.”

“Albert…”

“Don’t talk. Breathe.”

She did as he asked, and soon enough, he pulled her into his arms,

“Can you stand?”

She nodded.

“Come here…”

He helped her stand, and another pair of hands was on her, supporting her as her knees buckled again.

Jet picked her up like she weighed nothing. She put her arms around his shoulders and leaned against his chest,

“I’ll apologize later…”

She slurred. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and started walking towards the motel.

“They’ll see…” she whined into his shoulder, “They’ll see us…”

 

No one saw. If they did, they slept it off along with the booze.

 

Fran shed her uniform with no care. She tore at the straps and pulled the parts off so they fell to the floor until she stood there only in her bodysuit. After a pause, she put her arms around herself and trembled,

“What do we do now?”

“We sleep.”

Albert answered, his own suit around his waist,

“We sleep for as long as we can, and then we figure out a plan.”

“Yea. We got enough pocket change to hold on for a while.”

Jet was still kicking his boots off,

“And when that runs out?”

“It won’t, Fran…”

“Are we going sleep in the dolphin?”

“Babe…”

“I’m so tired!!”

She yelled. Tears were streaming down her face, and the boys surrounded her again, shielding her from the harsh light in the room with synthetic body parts. Jet kissed her neck, and Albert her shoulder.

“We’re gonna figure this out, ok?”

“NO, WE’RE NOT! THE MOMENT EVERYTHING’S FALLS BACK INTO PLACE, A NEW THREAT WILL SURFACE, WE’LL LOSE EVERYTHING AND NOT EVEN RECEIVE A ‘THANK YOU’ OR A ‘SORRY YOU LOST YOUR HOUSE’!”

She choked and they led her to the bed and had her sit,

“I thought I had lost you…” she sobbed, “I thought I was going to lose you again! It was bad enough that I had to lose you and Joe back then… but all three of you?”

They wound up lying on their backs, stroking her hair and drying her tears,

“He just needs some time alone.”

“WHY! WE’RE HIS FAMILY! WE’RE THE ONES HE SHOULD BE GETTING COMFORT AND SUPPORT FROM! AND WE DEPEND ON HIM! HE CAN’T LEAVE US NOW!! NOT AFTER ALL OF THIS!”

She hiccupped, her fists trembling between Albert’s out-stretched hands.

Jet was shaping himself after her body, chin resting on her head. Slowly, her breathing mirrored his. They had no answers for her. Between Jet’s rage and Albert’s cold resistance, Fran was once again in the middle with despair weighing her down.

Jet was about to say something, but someone knocked on the door. Jet slid off the bed and pulled his suit up. Chang was standing outside,

 “Hey.”

“Good evening. I found these in the Dolphin. Everything is clean.”

Jet stared into the bag. It held some boxers and a shirt he had forgotten he had, as well as some of Albert and Fran’s things.

“Oh, and here’s supper.”

He pushed another bag into his hand that smelt unmistakably of Chinese food. Chang had some kind of freaky 6th sense when it came to Chinese restaurants. He could be dropped in any foreign town and dig one up.

“Get the soda out of there before it gets warm, alright?”

“Yeah… thanks, man.”

“Just make sure she eats something.”

Chang smiled at him and turned to go back to his own room, only to look at Jet over his shoulder,

“And we’re not eating here tomorrow. We’re going to the diner across the street. If the grub here is as bad as the rooms, we’ll be lying straight out with food poisoning for weeks.”

Jet nodded to himself; Fran usually felt better after some Kung Pao chicken.


	4. Chapter 4

If he hadn’t been so tired, Chang would have tried to fashion himself a pair of sandals out of carton and towel shreds. He didn’t dare think what kind of bacteria lurked on the shower floor. He realized that he hadn’t really needed the shower halfway through shampooing. He didn’t sweat anymore. A blessing in the kitchen and on the battlefield, certainly, but it felt odd.

He couldn’t wash away the memories of seeing those young men bleeding from their eyes, ears and mouths while screaming for their mothers. Or the chill once he realized Albert was floating around in space all alone, while Jet was missing and Joe seemed to have vanished into thin air. Or the fear that somewhere out there, someone far more dangerous than the emperor was waiting for the right opportunity to strike. He turned the water off and rubbed his face.

He couldn’t keep thinking like this. By some miracle, all three boys were back with them. Everyone were scuffed and exhausted and would probably need buckets of comfort and junk food on a couch they didn’t have, in a house they were still looking for. That was his focus now.

When he came out, Great had already gotten into bed, legs crossed under the duvet and switching the channels,

“Oh, God, I know that look…”

He transformed into a bright blue bowl with a whisk in it.

“Go on, stress-cook!! Do what you must!”

Chang glared at him,

“I had hoped you would have fallen asleep by now. You always get so annoying at the worst times.”

GB turned back, and Chang snorted,

“Nevermind. Those pajamas hurt like a hangover…”

“What’s your problem? I’m not the one who looks like an alcoholic grandma!”

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO GAVE THIS TO ME!”

“And now I’m regretting pulling it off that teddy bear at the toy store!”

“Like you’re so easy to shop for! Jerk!”

He sat down on the edge of the bed with a huff.

“Hey.”

GB crawled over to him and kissed his shoulder,

“We’re gonna be fine, love.”

“Do you promise?”

“We can’t let a lover’s spat tear us up. Especially when we’re not the lovers in question.”

He made Chang fall backwards, crawled on top of him and started nuzzling his neck.

“So really, what’s with the coat? I haven’t seen you wear that since the 60s.”

“I didn’t have anything else.”

“…Really?”

He tugged the robe open and dove in,

“Hey!”


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey!”

Pyunma looked over his shoulder, trying to look mad. It wasn’t working.

“What’s the big idea?”

“Thought it would help.”

Pyunma stripped off the rest of his uniform while Geronimo watched,

“Using shock-waves is not help, that’s just pushing.”

“Sorry.”

Pyunma snorted at him, still failing to look upset.

They didn’t share a room back at the ranch, but had had a door installed between each their cot. Single rooms didn’t feel right at the moment, however. Pyunma was left in his boxers when he paused,

“Do you think Fran will be alright?”

“Define alright.”

Geronimo muttered, turning over in the bed. It responded by creaked so loudly both of them began eyeing the gross sofa across the room. When the bed remained in place, they exhaled,

“I can’t blame her for getting mad, but what she said was pretty messed up. She sounded like Jet when he gets really pissed.”

“You disagree with her?”

 “I dunno… she did have a point. Joe takes risks all the time. It’s the kind of person he is.”

“I guess… But it’s been years for her. It hasn’t been for him.”

Pyunma cocked his head. Geronimo was too big for the bed. It was a normal problem for him by now. Even curled up, he’d probably be left with his feet sticking out from the covers.

“You have a lot of insight, don’t you?”

“You weren’t there.”

Pyunma walked over, climbed on top of him and placed his arms on his chest, resting his chin in the palm of his hand,

“But you were.”

“I was. Gilmore told her to keep an eye on Joe, while I kept an eye on her.”

His eyes were downcast. Pyunma didn’t try to catch them. This kind of closeness was still new to them. In the old days, a quick fuck in the shower was proof that they were still alive. Maybe even a bonding experience, of sorts. All of that, and they’d been close for years, and yet Pyunma was hesitant to ask if Geronimo had every had, or still did have more than friendly feelings towards Fran.

“Gotta hurt to see the man you love say that he’d rather be all alone year after year when you’ve been hoping he’s gonna pop the question.”

Pyunma’s eyes widened,

“What?”

“This doesn’t leave the room, but she told me. We shared a bottle of wine when I came back, and she spilled her guts.”

So had he, and it occurred to him that Fran was likely to shut up about how depressed he’d been when his efforts to preserve what little culture was left had wound up doing nothing. And here he was, giving Pyunma everything he had on her. But he couldn’t stop either, because he needed him to understand that this was more than a freak-out after a fight.  

“I thought she just wanted to be his girlfriend. Turns out she was hoping for a white picket fence and golden retriever. He couldn’t even go official for her sake. That’s probably what sucks the most.”

Pyunma sniffed him,

“What?”

“I’m checking for booze… you’re starting to go all country on me again…”

“Hey!”

He pushed him off himself,

“Don’t mock the dialect.”

“No, Mr. Cowboy, sir.”

Pyunma said, one eyebrow cocked.

“At least you came to visit…” Geronimo mumbled, “Not that we… I mean…”

“Well, I had to see you again.”

“Hah. Gay.”

“Dumbass.”

Pyunma snorted and lost his boxers. With his hand on the door, he looked over his shoulder,

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“The cockroaches here are the size of cats. Are you seriously going to let me shower alone?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


	6. Chapter 6

 

Isaac sank into the chair, rubbing his temples. He had changed, washed his face and combed his hair. Now he was aching for a pipe. He’d quit the habit long ago, and put the TV on to distract himself. He flipped through countless shows of young, tan people either dancing, gossiping or fighting, before finally settling on an old detective show he was certain he had already seen once or twice.

Ivan was in his basket, fast asleep and likely to stay that way for a few days. He envied him. Even at his age, and with the enhancements, he would need something strong to put him to sleep. There was far too much to think of tonight.

Back when the UN had rejected them, he had felt the same kind of helplessness as he did now. And now it was on a far grander scale. His cyborgs, who he had once considered invincible, especially when working as a unit, were in serious danger from The Blessed.

Or perhaps not?

He had turned it over and over in his head. They were aware of one another, but they didn’t all seem to belong to the same faction. But couldn’t that mean more would come after them? Or wait until they unknowingly stepped on their toes?

Ivan made a noise in his sleep and shifted.

Isaac looked over at him and sighed. Overthinking again. That was the thing. They wouldn’t know what to prepare for, so was there any point in worrying? There were problems closer to home to deal with at the moment.

And home was the keyword wasn’t it? If he had to stay in this dingy little motel room much longer, he’d park himself on the room.

And then there was Joe.

Joe and Francoise’s relationship hadn’t always been a source of tension in the household, and he longed for the days when the others were either observing or betting amongst themselves that this would be the day Francoise snapped and told Joe to open his eyes.

He had tried his best to stay out of it. There were cultural differences to deal with, not to mention Joe’s devotion to serving his purpose and spread peace and justice wherever he could, while Francoise still longed for the stage and a quiet, ordinary life off it. They had eternity together, they didn’t need an old man’s interference in this matter.

But tonight’s fight had been so unlike both of them. So had Joe’s need for solitude.

Ivan kicked his blanket off, and Isaac walked over to him and wrapped him up again. Then he went to his own bed and laid down. There was little he could do. But in Ivan’s place, he would observe and advise.

His children were growing up.


	7. Chapter 7

 

It went another beat before their heads snapped back into place and Francoise cleared her throat,

“He wanted to attend Catalina’s funeral. I’m assuming he’ll be back soon.”

“I didn’t see him there.”

Igarashi’s brow furrowed. The ceremony had been embarrassingly small due to Catalina’s penchant for keeping people at a distance, and Igarashi hadn’t wanted to mingle. It was interesting what shaded glasses and a big coat could do.

“Of course you didn’t,” GB snickered as his head morphed into a that of a freckled young man with black hair. Igarashi remembered him. He had worn an ill-fitting suit and left a massive bouquet at her grave,

“I did him up very nice before he left. Couldn’t take the risk of anyone recognizing him, you know.”

 “He went anyway.”

Francoise said. This time, Jet put his arm around her and had her lean her head on his shoulder. None of the others seemed the least surprised at this.

Still, it wasn’t his job to snoop, so Igarashi ignored it.

How in tune did people become after… what was it, now? 54 years? In battle, they fought as one. Here, they anticipated each other’s moves and needs. It was indeed strange to see.

“The real reason I’m here is because I wanted to let you know that the UN has decided to pretty much erase your existence and involvement in the conflict. Every single photograph of you will be tracked down and deleted.”

“You can do that? Well, that’s horrifying.”

GB quipped,

“I’m talking public photos, naturally. Any private recordings will be explained away as Guardians trying out new battle gear.”

“And if anyone has a picture of me turning into a piece of human taffy?”

“Cameras aren’t perfect, and the due to photo-manipulation having come this far, it will leave the conspiracy theorists even more unreliable than they already are. As far as we are concerned, you can go back to having ordinary lives.”

He immediately regretted his choice of words and was met with several unamused looks and snorts.

“Either way, we will not be involving you further.”

Gilmore rose slowly and leaned on his cane. The others turned to him like attentive school children,

“Thank you for this, Mr. Director.”

They shook hands,

“If it’s all the same to you, I believe we are going to breakfast.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Oh, GB, you handsome fool! You can’t mean that we will ever wear the clothes we wore 30 years ago?”

GB struck a dramatic pose as he pulled the curtain back, revealing a rack straining under the weight of clothes. Every hanger was labelled with their names and hung in succession. Their other clothes were little more than ash, and while they didn’t sweat, they were sick of their uniforms. GB had all but danced them down to the storage and revealed his stash.  

“I have often played with the idea of throwing away my entire wardrobe and start from scratch! Don’t look at me like that, kids, I know at least two of you have thought the same thing! And you know what, I totally could have, because my common-law husband is bathing in money. But I said to myself, I said ‘no, GB. No. Remember the theatre’s money shortage! How much joy came from the worn and smelly costumes that countless people had worn before you!’” Jet wrinkled his nose, but GB continued, “You all called me mad when I took the old clothes you were throwing out! You said I had no sense! And here we are! Now come be reunited!”

The others closed in and inspected the items. GB had indeed stored the clothes with care and expertise. A few of them had even been freshly ironed.

“So why in the Dolphin?” Fran asked,

“Good question my dear! … frankly, even though our house is as big as it is, between my costumes and Chang’s Ranma ½ -wardorbe…” he grunted when Chang elbowed him, “There just wasn’t room! And I figured, if we were even going on a mission again, we’d need disguises!”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we’d garner less attention in our suits than these 70s clothes.” Albert said, holding up a hanger entirely dedicated to ascots.

“Luckily for you, the 70s are back and with a bang. I think you can leave the hat behind, however, my dear,” GB said, patting Fran’s arm, “That thing was never in style.”

“I’m Parisian. I make it stylish just by wearing it.” She still put it down.

 

A quick change later, they looked like they had raided a vintage shop and still had money to spend.

“Oh, are you going to take me to Funkytown?”

Albert snickered with a look at Jet’s black button-down and beige flares. Jet threw a jacket at him,

“Shut up. You look like you get your dick sucked behind gas stations.”

“Be nice.” Fran said, adjusting a pale blue dress she had completely forgotten, “You both look handsome.”

She adjusted Albert’s tie. He’d opted for a casual suit with a chestnut jacket and dark grey slacks. There wasn’t a lot he had that would look acceptable with gloves, after all.

Pyunma was dressed in one of Jet's old Ramones t-shirts, and one of Alber’s flares. He stroked a hand over his fatigues before finally grabbing a khaki cap and putting it on, “Ok, are we ready?”

“Indeed we are, my good man!”  

GB called out, making a dramatic exit in a green Hawaii shirt, khakis and white tennis shoes.

“Holy shit, I thought those things would have rotted by now.” Jet muttered.

Chang followed, wearing the exact same khakis and shirt, which was red. He looked mournfully at the robes he had left behind, then at his husband who was posing like he was vying for the next cover of GQ.

“At least take off the necklace.”

“NEVER! I’m trying to blend it!”

“We’re not in Florida!”

“Maybe we’re from there! Yes! We are Nigel and Li-Yu Jackson from Florida!”

“Spectacular.”

“We have two dogs named Mitzi and Sheila, and we have a voracious appetite for apple martinis!”

GB couldn’t be stopped during times like this, and even Chang just sighed and let him run his course.

“This is your fault.” Pyunma mumbled to Jet, who said nothing to defend himself. What had been a joke-gift one Christmas became GB and Chang’s favorite staple of their summer and vacation wardrobes.

Geronimo straightened his cowboy hat, which crashed with his lumberjack-look. It didn’t help that he was carrying Ivan in a harness he’d made himself. Turned out most baby places weren’t equipped for a half-giant.

“Look at the world’s safest baby.” Fran snickered.

“Don’t be so sure. He’s gettin’ a stern talkin’ to later, I can promise you that. We’re a team. I don’t want’im takin’ risks jus’ cuz he’s curious.”

She nodded. When Geronimo’s dialect started creeping out, he meant business.


End file.
